Crown Jewel

by Fern Michaels

  There was no reason on earth that he needed to be present to hear Philly snub him in death the way he had in life. Did he really need to hear how much money he was leaving Roxy? No, he did not. Nor did he need to know about Philly’s other private holdings and investments. He should have simply declined the invitation to attend. The lawyer, Philly’s old friend and confidant, could just as easily have sent him a letter.

  His father had once said that a dying person’s wishes should always be honored. If this was the last thing he could do for Philly, he’d grit his porcelain caps and do it.

  The conference room was small, almost stark, which surprised Ricky. A shiny oval table, with a centerpiece of brilliant orange and gold spider mums nestled among feathery greenery, stood in the center. A silver service with coffee cups sat on a sideboard next to a telephone console, fax machine, and copier. In the corner on a small table was a seventeen-inch television set, along with a VCR. He smelled the coffee, so it must be fresh. He helped himself. He needed all the caffeine he could get.

  Ricky carried his cup to the table and set it down. He looked around to see if there was a NO SMOKING sign but didn’t see one. It was probably understood that you couldn’t smoke. Like he cared. He smoked two cigarettes a day, one with his first cup of coffee and one after dinner. On the occasions when he had sex, he smoked three. Philly had chain-smoked, a three-pack-a-day man. His only vice, according to Philly. In all other areas of his life, he was perfect. According to Philly.

  Ricky looked down at his watch. Time is money. Philly would be really pissed that the lawyer hadn’t arrived yet. Everyone knew lawyers were all about billable hours. He continued drinking his coffee and smoking his cigarette. A perfect smoke ring sailed upward. Ricky tilted his head until he was sitting directly underneath it. His own personal halo. He smiled to himself, wondering if Philly was watching. Probably, since Philly never missed a trick.

  The door opened just as Ricky was about to crush out his cigarette. Roxy and her daughter Reba, minus their black hats and black veils. He expected to see red-rimmed eyes and little or no makeup. Especially on Roxy. But she was perfectly made-up and was wearing pounds of jewelry and at least a pint of perfume. Reba didn’t need makeup, jewelry, or perfume. She had youth on her side, twenty-three, if he remembered correctly. She looked…for want of a better word, angry.

  Roxy looked pointedly at the cigarette Ricky was about to put out. “Show some respect,” she said. Ricky looked down at the cigarette before he brought it to his lips and blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. It was a childish, ridiculous thing to do, and he knew it. Roxy brought out the worst in him. Philly smoked three packs a day, so she should have been used to the smell. When he finally stubbed out the cigarette, he looked at his watch. He’d give the fat-cat lawyer another five minutes, and if he wasn’t there by then, he’d leave. The lawyer entered three minutes later and took his seat at the oval table.

  Timothy Andreadis was Greek, but he could have passed for Italian, Jewish, or maybe even Spanish. He had a hawklike nose, and the bushy hair that stood away from his head like a shrub gone awry was obviously all his own. He gave the impression of being thick, from his bull neck down to his thick legs and exceptionally big feet. He’d been Philly’s lawyer forever. He opened his briefcase and rustled papers before he withdrew Philly’s will, encased in a shiny blue cover that acted as a protective sleeve.

  “Before you do anything, Timothy,” Roxy said, “I want to say I don’t think this is necessary. I know exactly what’s in the will, and I don’t think my brother-in-law needs to be present to hear it all. I resent this.” Ricky was surprised at how cold the grieving widow’s voice sounded.

  “For once I agree with you, Roxy,” Ricky said, standing up. “You made it sound imperative that I be here, Tim. Why? Roxy was Philly’s wife, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just head on out. I’m going to the islands today.”

  “Please sit down, Ricky. Your brother wanted you here.” While the attorney shuffled his papers, he asked, “Did you wind up the film?”

  “Yes. They used the footage of the car crash. Philly’s name will appear in the credits. I think he would have liked that. We finished it the day after…the day after.”

  Tim snapped open the blue sleeve containing the will.

  “Coffee anyone?” Ricky asked. When there was no response, he poured himself a cup and lit another cigarette. He remained standing, which seemed to annoy Roxy. Reba looked up at him, the same angry expression on her face.

  “This is the last will and testament of Philip John Lam.”

  “Timothy, would you please cut to the chase,” Roxy said. “We know Philly was of sound mind, and we know he made bequests to some of our employees. I’d like to put this behind me so I can go home and grieve. We could have done this next week or the week after. I don’t see what the big hurry is.”

  Ricky’s stomach tied itself into a knot as he waited for the lawyer’s response. Something was going on here. Damn, Philly, what the hell did you do? It looked to him like Roxy was wondering the same thing.

  “I’m doing exactly what your husband instructed me to do, Roxy. That’s what lawyers do. Now let me get to it, and we can all go home.”

  Ricky leaned against the sideboard, coffee cup in one hand, cigarette in the other. He stared at his sister-in-law as the lawyer’s voice droned on, the legalese dripping from his tongue. Roxy was an advertisement for Rodeo Drive. She wore it well. If it was top-of-the-line and expensive, if it sparkled, glistened, or shimmered, Roxy owned it. He thought he could see dollar signs in her eyes. Philly had said the same thing many times.

  “And now to the major part of Philip’s will.” Andreadis rattled the paper in his hands for effect. “I leave my entire estate to my brother Ricky. To my wife I leave the sum of ten thousand dollars. To my stepdaughter Reba, I leave two thousand dollars. To my nephews Tyler and Max, I leave the sum of five hundred thousand dollars each, said sums to be disbursed by their father when and if he deems necessary.

  “All partnerships, all holdings held in my brother’s and my names revert to Ricky Lam. All insurance, including the key man policy, is to go to my brother, also.

  “The house and furnishings in Laurel Canyon are bequeathed to Roxy Nelson, along with the cars and the boat.”

  The coffee cup in Ricky’s hand slipped to the floor. Brown liquid splashed up his pant leg. He could feel the cigarette starting to burn his fingers. Reba bent down to pick up the cup. She handed it to him, looking shocked.

  Roxy wasn’t a pillar of salt today. Her face was contorted into an ugliness Ricky had never seen before. Deep guttural curses exploded from her lips as her hands jabbed at the air around her. For one wild moment, Ricky thought those hands were going to reach out and strangle the lawyer.

  So much for grief.

  The attorney leaned back and waited for Roxy’s outburst to subside. When she saw him lean back and steeple his fingers, she calmed down, and said quietly, “I assume there is an explanation for this. When did Philip change his will?” She let her gaze sweep to Ricky. “Just how much did you have to do with this?”

  “I’m as shocked as you are. Philly never said a word to me,” Ricky said, his eyes glazing over.

  “You want to know why?” the attorney said, his eyes on Roxy. “Philip said if you were to ask, I was to respond by telling you, you know why. He said if you still persist in questioning me, I was to mention the word insurance. In addition, Roxanne, Philip instructed me to say if you even think about contesting the will, everything he did bequeath to you will revert to his brother Ricky Lam. He changed his will exactly fourteen months ago. I believe it was when he got some personal bad news to answer your question.”

  “This is California. There are common property laws. Everything should be split down the middle,” Roxy challenged.

  “If, Roxanne, if it was held jointly. None of Philip’s assets had your name on them, just Philip’s and Ricky’s names. This will is so airtight, a gnat couldn’
t get through it. In addition, you signed another document, a prenuptial agreement, explaining all this to you. I have a copy here in case you feel the need to refresh your memory.”

  “Philip said he rescinded the prenup.” Ricky thought Roxy’s voice sounded cold as well as desperate. He stared at her, almost expecting chunks of ice to fall off her teeth.

  “In that case, you should have gotten it in writing, my dear. The prenuptial agreement was never rescinded.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Roxy screamed, turning to Ricky. “I know you had something to do with this you…you poor excuse for an actor.”

  Ricky threw his hands in the air. “I’m outta here. I don’t want it. Give it all to her.”

  “Your brother said you were going to say that,” the attorney said quietly.

  Ricky turned back. His eyes narrowed. “He did?”

  “Yes, he did. He said he would be forever disappointed in you if you ignored his final wishes. He had great faith in you.”

  Ricky walked back to the table and stood over the lawyer. “How did he know…what if he had outlived me? This all sounds like…it was…a plan of some sort. He shouldn’t have thought he was going to die until he was old. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “Yes. Your brother had, at best, a year to live. He got the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer fourteen months ago. As far as I know, his doctor and I are the only ones who knew about the precarious condition of his health. Perhaps his passing was a blessing in disguise. He didn’t suffer.”

  Ricky wondered if his own expression looked as stunned as the expression he was seeing on his sister-in-law’s face. His brother had been terminally ill, and he’d had no clue. Not one. Obviously, Roxy hadn’t had a clue either. The hot tears he held in check pricked at his eyes.

  “He wanted it this way, Ricky,” the attorney said.

  “Wait a minute. Philly was married to Roxy for twenty years. I need to know why he turned his back on her like he did. Otherwise, I’ll just turn around and give it all to her once it’s settled. What’s fair is fair. I’m waiting, Timothy.” He glanced in Roxy’s direction. A look of hope crept across her doll-perfect face.

  The attorney uttered a long sigh. Ricky could see that he was troubled. “Philip valued a promise made. He told me how he promised your mother always to look after you. He said you honored the promises you made to him when you returned from the clinic. That was very important to Philip.” Timothy turned to address Roxy. “You, Roxanne, broke promises, according to Philip, and on top of that, you tried to cheat him, and in so doing, cheat his brother. He considered that unforgivable. I’ll file this will for probate. Do either of you have any questions?”

  Ricky had a barrelful, but he wasn’t going to ask them now.

  “What about the islands? I had a job there. Did he rip that away from me, too?” Roxy demanded harshly.

  “Yes.” The will crackled again when the attorney slipped it back into its sleeve. He slid it into his briefcase, then closed and locked it.

  Ricky left the conference room in a daze. While he waited for a cab, Timothy Andreadis joined him. All Ricky could do was stare at him. “I’m waiting for a cab. A friend dropped me off after the funeral.”

  “Would you like to go somewhere for some coffee, Ricky? You look like you’re in shock. Accept it. It was what Philip wanted.”

  “But Tim, to cut Roxy out like that, I just don’t understand it.”

  “They hated each other. Can you understand that?”

  “No, no, I can’t understand that. I always thought they had the perfect marriage. There wasn’t anything Philly wouldn’t do for Roxy. At least that’s how I perceived it. He took real good care of Reba even though he never adopted her.”

  “That might have been the case once. Philip didn’t believe in divorce, as you know. He had many different insurance policies. There was one fifty-thousand-dollar policy with Roxy as beneficiary. All the others had you listed as the beneficiary. About fifteen years ago, right around the time you came back from the clinic, Philip wanted to go over all his holdings. The estate planner in the office is the one who found out what Roxy had done. She’d forged Philip’s name on the different policies and put her own name in as beneficiary. As far as I know, he never told her that he knew. He went over everything with a fine-tooth comb and he took her name off everything. He did it legally and had her sign all the papers. I don’t know if she knew what she was signing. But she did sign them. If you need something more by way of explanation, Philip said his wife betrayed him. The same way she betrayed you. He said you would understand. He came to believe, but only later on, that you never stalked her as she claimed. She’s the one who should have been an actress.

  “Philip said the one thing you never did was lie to him. He did say you had faults, but lying wasn’t one of them. On top of all that, he felt like he had betrayed you. He had a hard time with that. That’s all I can tell you, Ricky.”

  Ricky shook his head. “Let’s skip the coffee. I need to go home and think about all this.”

  “You might want to take this with you,” the attorney said, reaching inside his jacket pocket. He withdrew a copy of the will and handed it to Ricky. “If you need me, call,” the lawyer said as he tipped the valet and climbed into his Mercedes. “By the way, Ricky, it was a lovely service.”

  He was alone again, waiting for the valet to commandeer him a cab. He could feel his thoughts ricocheting all over the place. He yanked at his tie before he ripped it off and stuffed it into his pocket. He saw the cab rolling up to the entrance at the same time he saw two teenage girls debating if they should ask him for his autograph. He smiled. They surged forward, pen and paper in hand. He was scrawling his signature when he felt eyes boring into him. Roxy and Reba. Roxy’s eyes were full of tears. Reba wore the same angry expression she’d worn in the conference room.

  An hour later he was home. He shed his clothes as he walked through his empty house. Within minutes he pulled on his swimming trunks and headed for the pool. The water was cool, clean, and clear. When he surfaced, he shook his head to clear the water from his eyes. He climbed out and wrapped a pool towel, a Ralph Lauren special, around his shoulders.

  His sunglasses and a pitcher of ice tea, some cinnamon buns, and a box of tissues sat on a table next to his favorite chair. His housekeeper’s attempt to assuage his grief.

  As he stretched out in the lounge chair he couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes were burning from the chlorine in the pool or because of Philly. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He could cry now because he was alone. Now he could grieve.

  When he couldn’t cry anymore, he closed his eyes, hoping for sleep. The past four days he’d prayed for sleep, had even contemplated taking sleeping tablets, but he hadn’t taken them because they were a drug. He’d promised Philly never to take drugs again. So he’d tossed and turned, walked the grounds, and drunk hot milk. He must have dozed off and on during those days because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to function.

  It was four o’clock when he woke. At some point, his housekeeper must have opened the sun umbrella so that he wouldn’t get burned. A second yellow Ralph Lauren towel was spread out over his legs. He had to remember to thank Ellie.

  Ricky removed his sunglasses. That was when he noticed the bottle of aspirin and the fresh pitcher of ice tea. His reading glasses rested on the envelope. He knew it contained Philly’s will. It must have fallen out of his jacket. When Ellie cleaned up behind him, she would have seen it and brought it out to the pool, along with his reading glasses.

  Today isn’t the day to read this. Maybe there will never be a day.

  Life is a bitch!

  “Ricky, what brings you here?” Timothy asked two weeks later. He closed the folder on his desk before he got up to walk around and clasp Ricky’s hand. “Jesus, you look awful. Aren’t you sleeping?”

  “No, I’m not. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I’m ready to make some decisions, and in order to d
o that, I need your help. This isn’t going to be a conflict of interest or anything like that, is it?”

  “That depends.”

  Ricky looked around at the office, surprised to see all the family pictures. It was a restful room, with many different plants some secretary must take care of. A small fish tank with colorful tropical fish sat in a corner, directly in Timothy’s line of vision. He’d read somewhere that watching fish swim to and fro was supposed to be relaxing. He made a mental note to get some. “How many children do you have, Tim?”

  “Six.”

  “Six kids!”

  “Yes. Four boys and two girls. Not a twin in the bunch. We have three dogs, two cats, and a parrot. The house rocks.”

  “I’ll bet it does. Six kids!”

  “Philly was godfather to all of them.”

  Ricky dug the heels of his shoes into the soft carpeting. “I didn’t know that. I guess there’s a lot about Philly I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know that he and Roxy hated each other? More important, why didn’t I know he was sick?”

  “He didn’t want you to know, Ricky. Your brother was obsessed with your well-being. He didn’t want you to fail. He didn’t want you to break the promise you made to him to stay on the straight and narrow. Do you know he had private dicks on you twenty-four/seven? I think he viewed it as a safety net of sorts. One false move, and he would have swooped down on you like the father bird he was.”

  Ricky could feel his head start to pound. “Then those dicks must have been asleep at the switch the night before he died because I fell off the wagon. All I’ve done is think about that night, and, no, I haven’t taken a drink since. I think I must have had some kind of premonition that something bad was about to happen. That’s all I can come up with. By the way, I haven’t yet looked at the will. I need to be in a better place than I’m in right now before I do that. But I’ll go along with what Philly wanted.”

  “It’s understandable. There’s no rush. Now, what is it you need me to do for you?”